Coming to Terms
by Tiger Timberwolf
Summary: What might happen if Seras had found a wounded Alexander Anderson after the battle with Incognito? Can an understanding ever be reached? SerasAnderson, set after Episode 13 Epilogue up, COMPLETE!
1. Reasons Why

Disclaimer: Hellsing and all its characters are not my property – and I make no profit off of this work of fanfiction.  
  
_IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ! This fic was inspired by the fic Leonine by shadeshark. I strongly suggest you read that, because it's probably better than this one could hope to be. It takes place after episode 13 in the anime, but will contain some manga elements. I will note them as they become important. That said – I am horrible at regular updates, so be warned in advance that this will likely be an erratically posted story! Now, on with the show...._  
  
Chapter the First  
  
Why?  
  
It was a question she'd asked herself so often that it was starting to become a litany.  
  
Maybe it had been shock. After all, Ferguson had just been killed, Walter injured, Sir Integra imprisoned...everything had been thrown into confusion. Surely even the undead could react badly, irrationally, in times of severe stress.  
  
Okay, so shock could cover the initial action. The rest wasn't quite so easy to explain away. Continuing with this farce was the real problem. Of course the empty state of the mansion helped. Walter still in the hospital, Sir Integra locked up while her guilt or innocence was being debated, and her Master hovering close to the head of Hellsing all the time. Pressing her to choose the night, Seras was certain. So – nobody around to notice, or to interfere.  
  
Seras Victoria sighed as she paused at the door of her room, taking a deep breath full of oxygen she no longer required. She blew it out fretfully, stirring her strawberry-blonde bangs out of her deep red eyes. Wincing slightly in anticipation, she opened the door.  
  
"Back so soon, demon?" snarled a voice almost immediately. The vampire looked at the lanky form of the badly wounded priest lying on a rickety cot across the room from her coffin.  
  
She was a glutton for punishment. Yeah, that had to be it.  
  
"Evening, Anderson."  
  
She had found him near the wreckage after Alucard's defeat of Incognito. From his near incoherent ranting she'd discovered that he'd tried to take on the weird foreign vampire – and failed miserably. Worse, the sorcery- using creature had done something more than simply wound him to the point of death. Anderson not only could not use his holy sheaves of paper...he was not regenerating. Forgotten in the confusion, she'd carried his sorry, bloody carcass back to the only safe place she could think of, the Hellsing mansion. He wasn't even a security threat anymore – he couldn't summon his binding spells, and couldn't walk, stand, or even sit up on his own. Couldn't even lift a hand – and all of his swords had been broken.  
  
Seras moved into the room, ignoring his baleful green glare, placing the food she carried on the table that also held her bag of medical blood. She continued to muse over her reasons for helping the man her Master loved to refer to as "the Judas Priest".  
  
Helplessness had been a part of it, she was certain. She'd been nearly helpless in the battle with Incognito. This had been something she could do. Part of her training in both the police and D-11 had included emergency medicine. Her time at Hellsing had taught her more. So she'd stripped him down to his boxers (like she'd really needed to know he wore them!) while he roared at her and did his best to bite if she got too close to his face. After cleaning him off, she'd proceeded to stitch him up – without anesthetic of any kind. She figured she owed him at least that much for putting a sword through her throat, killing Gareth, and cutting off her Master's head.  
  
Okay, she owed him a lot more than that, but it was a satisfying start anyway. While she was 'sewing' he cursed her in English, Italian, what sounded like Gaelic, and what she thought was Latin, using words she hadn't thought priests were supposed to know, let alone use.  
  
Then, because the smell of all that blood was driving her wild, she'd left him lying in her coffin (lid up, despite her temptation otherwise) she'd gone off to find him a cot or something. He'd remained on that rickety cot for nearly a week and a half now.  
  
"I'm getting better at cooking, so it's getting faster," she told him almost lightly. Not responding to his angry words irritated him more than any attempt to talk back would have. "I made a kidney pie tonight. I used to love these things before..."  
  
"Before ye sold yer soul to the devil himself," spat Anderson.  
  
"Just because he wears red all the time doesn't mean Master Alucard's the devil," she chided, secretly enjoying his outraged spluttering at her deliberate misinterpretation of his words.  
  
It would have been so much easier to either leave him where he'd been or kill him where he'd lain. Or at the very least she could have turned him back over to the Iscariots. But Seras was neither stupid nor above a little pettiness. Anderson had been in treaty violation AGAIN by being where he had. That gave him zero rights as far as she was concerned. Also, Hellsing was currently practically inoperative. Holding their best operative like this kept Section 13 from moving into England while Integra was imprisoned.  
  
And of course, there was reason number three, Seras's favorite reason of all. It was absolutely enraging the paladin that his life was being saved by one of the 'abominations' he fought against! She hid a small smile as she cut up the pie. He kept that hot emerald gaze on her unrelentingly. She'd been annoyed by it at first, but now she barely noticed it. Let him glare. It couldn't hurt her, for all he seemed to wish it might.  
  
"I'm not hungry," he finally said stiffly. Seras rolled her eyes. Here they went again.  
  
"You know I'll force-feed you if you try refusing food again, Anderson." His face went red with anger from hairline to neck at the reminder of the power struggle the first few days he'd been here.  
  
"I'm not hungry, demon. Ye can't make a man eat if he isn't hungry!"  
  
"I can too. Especially if the man needs the food to recover." He clamped his mouth together and turned his head away, looking for all the world like a fussy infant. Seras's eyes widened a bit at that thought, and a wicked look her master would have been proud of entered her crimson eyes.  
  
"Come on, Anderson. Here comes the airplane!"  
  
She 'flew' the spoonful of food near his face, making airplane noises as she did so. He turned his head to look at her so fast she nearly caught him in the nose with the food. Seras was delighted to see that the look in his eyes was not the glare from moments before. It was pure, unadulterated shock.  
  
"Are ye ma– mmph!" The moment he opened his mouth, she stuffed the spoon in it. No matter how much he might protest, his body craved fuel as it tried to repair itself. If she could get the food in his mouth, survival instinct took over and he would eat it. It was really the most fun she got out of having him here.  
  
"Pretty good, isn't it?" she asked him cheerfully as he chewed and swallowed with an odd combination of reluctance and hunger.  
  
"When I can move again, it'll be my swords I'll be ramming down yer throat, demon."  
  
"You really know how to make a girl feel appreciated, Father," she retorted, and picked up another spoonful of kidney pie.  
  
It took awhile, but the pie was eventually consumed. Seras had been understandably relieved when she discovered that Anderson's current condition and regeneration abilities (which were very slowly returning to him) prevented elimination of bodily wastes. His metabolism devoured every scrap of nutrient and left nothing behind at all.  
  
Lucky for him. If she'd had to actually....well, it didn't bear thinking about. No need to traumatize herself unnecessarily. She relaxed in her coffin with a book while she waited for him to fall asleep. She tuned out the litany of insults and curses spewed her way. After all, he couldn't really move and there was no T.V. down here. Probably it was his only form of entertainment...  
  
It wasn't overly long before the priest finally ceased his haranguing and became quiet. And it was quite soon after that his breathing evened out, telling her he was asleep. Seras placed down her book quietly and went to a mini-fridge she'd put in the corner of the room. Opening it she retrieved a plastic bag of AB medical blood. Carefully, she retrieved a glass from the lone shelf in the room and placed both on the little table in the center of her abode.  
  
She tore the bag open and poured the blood into the goblet. Picked it up and put it to her lips.  
  
Put it down again.  
  
Picked it up and tried to take a sip – got within an inch of the rim of the cup – and put it down again.  
  
She glared at the blood, feeling her already prominent canines elongate further at the sight and smell of it.  
  
"I have to drink," she murmured quietly. "As long as I keep not drinking, I'm a half starved, useless, incomplete vampire. A liability to Hellsing."  
  
She picked up the goblet. Her hand trembled. She put it down again.  
  
"Why can't I just drink?" she muttered hopelessly. A single bloody tear slipped down her cheek. Moving abruptly, she picked up the goblet and let the contents empty into a container, which she shoved back in the fridge, right next to all the others. Wiping her eyes, frustrated and disgusted with herself, Seras climbed into her coffin and lowered the lid. The rising sun placed her deep into a vampire's sleep.  
  
Across the room, Anderson's eyes opened from their previous slits to full.  
  
Despite all the pain and anger and irritation involved in the situation, Anderson had been finding a tiny speck of thankfulness for the care of the vampire woman growing deep within his chest. Horrified, he had resolved to purge it by watching her drink blood, like the demon she was. See her true colors; demolish this incomprehensible and completely inappropriate sensation of gratitude. She was nosferatu; when he recovered he would slay her and display her body for that vile master of hers to see. So, knowing she probably drank after he slept, he'd successfully faked slumber and watched the whole thing. Heard everything.  
  
Alexander Anderson was suddenly sorely troubled. A vampire who wasn't drinking blood? And who was getting it from a donation bag and not a human's throat? Something wasn't matching up with his firmly held beliefs, and it disturbed the wounded Iscariot immensely.  
  
A/N: Hope you liked. Here's note number one. In the manga and perhaps the dubbed anime, Alexander Anderson had some sort of Irish, Scottish brogue. I'm attempting to capture that – mildly – with the use of ye and yer. Til next chapter then! 


	2. A Disturbing Point

Disclaimer: See chapter one  
  
A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter for you all. (Phew!) Writing Hellsing is harder than any other fanfiction I've yet done....  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Seras was awoken the next evening by laughter from outside her coffin. She jerked her head up, nearly hitting it on the top of her sleeping compartment. She knew that laugh.  
  
_: Oh, no... :_ she thought, slapping the button to lift the coffin lid. Already she could hear Anderson's enraged shouting as a counterpoint to the laughing. Her bed opened onto the scene she'd been dreading.  
  
Alucard, standing at the foot of the cot, laughing his head off. Anderson on the cot, face bright red from his screaming at the elder vampire.  
  
"Master!" Seras jumped out into the room. He turned a fanged grin on her, and she could almost feel his amusement. He had the oddest reactions to things sometimes.  
  
"So this is what you've been up to, police girl? Keeping the Judas Priest as a pet?"  
  
"I'm nae pet ye bloodsucking hell-demon!" Anderson's head and shoulders jerked as he fought the paralysis of his body, trying to sit up. A rose of blood blossomed on the sheets as his efforts merely reopened his stitches.  
  
"Anderson, you –" Seras made a move towards the cot.  
  
"Stay away from me, ye damned undead bitch!" bellowed the priest in a fury. The young vampire halted, startled, then angry. A loud click snapped her out of her momentary confusion. Alucard had his Jackal pointed at the paladin's forehead.  
  
"Master, no!" Seras darted over to the red clad man's side. He turned amused eyes on her.  
  
"No, police girl?" He smirked at Anderson. "How does it feel to be hiding behind a vampire for protection, Judas Priest?" There was an inarticulate howl of rage from the green-eyed Catholic, and more blood appeared as he struggled even harder against his unresponsive body.  
  
"It wouldn't be any challenge right now, Master," Seras said almost hesitantly. "He isn't regenerating right, he's just about paralyzed from the shoulders down –"  
  
"Just tell him everythin, why don't ye, Draculina?" shouted Anderson.  
  
"We're going for a walk," Alucard announced firmly, putting away his gun and gripping Seras by the arm. There was no room for dissention against the tone or the grip. "Enjoy your stay, Vatican dog."  
  
And he phased right into the wall, taking a shocked Seras along with him. She barely had time to try to scream as they passed through brick, mortar and concrete, before they had arrived outside the manor on the grass under a bloody full moon.  
  
"I think you need to talk fast, police girl. Convince me why I should let you keep your pet – and not put him down this very night." Seras gulped and began to explain. Alucard's vibrant red eyes did not leave her once through the entire, somewhat rambling explanation. He smirked at the full description of the paladin's injuries. He smiled at the tale of her sewing him up without anesthetic and force-feeding him. And when she somewhat shamefacedly admitted her favorite reason, that it so angered the priest to be beholden to a vampire, he began to laugh uproariously.  
  
"At the least I now have something to entertain my master with," the elder vampire said once he'd finished laughing, referring to Sir Integra. "Keep your pet for the time being. And watch he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him once he regains his mobility again."  
  
"Y-yes, my master," Seras replied. She had a feeling Sir Hellsing would be far less amused than Alucard was.

* * *

The smell of blood hit her hard as she stepped back into her room. Anderson lay nearly motionless on the cot, his face to the wall and his teeth bared in a feral grimace. Seras ignored his heated glare as she pulled off the stained coverlet.  
  
"Look at this Anderson, you ripped all the stitches on your right leg and most of the ones on your arm and chest!" He refused to answer. Rolling her eyes at his silent treatment, she pulled out the first aid kit and began to patch the priest back up.  
  
"And ye said he wasn't that bad," he sneered at her as she was finishing up the stitching on his chest. "Slave to a monster, that's what ye are."  
  
"Like you're any better," retorted Seras, not in the mood for this. "Remember our first meeting? You killed the commander of my unit – an innocent man – for no reason at all."  
  
"The fool was workin with ye hellspawn," Anderson replied almost loftily.  
  
"His name was Gareth. Captain Gareth. He had a wife and two little girls. He was working with Hellsing to keep England safe from the freak vampires." Seras could feel her fangs lengthening with irritation at his dismissive attitude of her first commander.  
  
"He was a heretic Protestant working alongside vampires. In the name of God, the souls of the impure and heretics shall be sent to Hell –"  
  
Seras slammed her fist down on the table nearby with enough force to break it.  
  
"Good done in the devil's name is not the devil's work, and evil done in god's name is not god's work! Which category do you fall into, murderer?" She turned on her heel and left the room, slamming the door on her way out, leaving one extremely disconcerted priest behind.

_ : Even the Devil can quote scripture, :_ Anderson thought uneasily to himself as he stared at the closed door. But her words echoed strangely in his head.  
  
_He was an innocent man...wife and two daughters...keep England safe...good done in devil's name...not devil's work...evil done in god's name...not god's work....what category do you fall into, murderer?  
  
Murderer...  
  
Murderer..._


	3. Shattering Illusions

Disclaimer: It's in chapter one.  
  
A/N: Are we having fun yet? Glad you all think folks are in character – we'll see if that lasts after this one, eh heh heh....well, here's number three, and I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Chapter Three  
  
That an undead vampiress should call him a murderer was ridiculous. That it should actually disturb him was unthinkable. Yet Paladin Alexander Anderson found himself in precisely this situation as he lay on the cot. There had been a stone wall of silence between him and his caretaker for the past two days after their confrontation on the night he'd torn his stitches.

More precisely, she was not speaking to him, and damned if he would make the effort anyway. But her words rankled, and he found himself...doubting. Perhaps it was the helpless position he found himself in that made him susceptible. Maybe she was drugging his food.

He shook his head a bit. Nonsense that thought – as a regenerator any drugs or poisons passed right through his system so fast they were a mere buzz. Sucked for trying to get drunk or take an aspirin, though.

And he was regenerating – he'd realized that while the wounds Incognito had inflicted were healing at a normal human speed, any new wounds healed at his regeneration speed. He'd bitten his lip so hard it bled after she'd stormed out that night, and it had closed right up. Clearly, God was still with him even in this bleak hour.

And still...he wrestled with his conscience, something which seemed to go numb when he was in combat. Then, anything in vaguest collusion with the undead was tainted and deserved death. Now, in the cold artificial light of this cell, he wasn't so certain.

The past two nights he'd surreptitiously watched her attempt to drink the medical blood and fail repeatedly. He was coming to realize that this Seras Victoria was truly a baby of a vampire. He'd pieced together a few comments and figured out that she'd only been undead for a little over a year. She was younger than he was, and she was clinging to her humanity. Which was something he'd never even have considered a vampire could have, a few weeks ago.

It was getting close to the late evening meal time. Anderson had been reluctantly switched onto a night schedule – since that was the only time his captor was awake to care for him. She was due to come in the heavy door any moment, bearing whatever she'd managed to concoct in the kitchen.  
  
Her kidney pies were actually very good. Everything else was barely palatable.

Time passed. His green eyes became locked on the clock hanging on the wall. 6:30am.

6:45.

7:00.

7:15.

At 7:30, his stomach growling, he realized that not only was she late, but she was out far past sunrise. That made no sense. An ancient monster like Alucard could walk abroad in daylight – a fledgling like Seras would be burnt to ashes.

It was now 8:00am and Anderson discovered he was worried. He immediately began to pray for forgiveness, disgusted at this weakness that had developed in him. Yet the familiar, comforting prayers could not blot out the niggling little concerns in the back of his head. Where was she? Had she abandoned him? Would he be left down here to starve to death? Had she been hurt? Was she unable to get to her daylight refuge?

"AMEN!" snarled Anderson, and turned his face to the wall, refusing to look at the clock or the door. He might have dozed off. He wasn't sure. But suddenly the door was slammed open with enough force to tear the top hinges free of the stone wall. Anderson's head snapped around as Alucard stormed into the room. His hat and glasses were missing, and his coat was not on his body. Instead it was – and Anderson felt a strange hollowness in the pit of his stomach – wrapped around a limp, still strawberry-blonde figure cradled in the vampire's arms.

"What the –"

"Silence." Alucard didn't shout. His voice was little more than a whisper, but somehow there was enough power in it to make the priest's mouth snap shut so fast he nearly took off the end of his own tongue. Moving with quick surety, the elder vampire placed the unconscious girl on her coffin/bed and unwrapped the coat with a care that startled the paladin.

He could not bite back his gasp as Seras came into view. Her limp form was pierced in nearly a dozen places by – again, that hollow sensation in his stomach! – chillingly familiar blessed blades. He lifted his head and shoulders up off the pillow as far as he could to stare in disbelief. One by one, Alucard pulled the swords from his fledgling's body, ignoring the soft hiss as the blessed silver contacted his hands.

He tossed them carelessly to one side, and ran an astonishingly long tongue over the wounds. It was hard to see from this angle, but it looked like the wounds closed up as Alucard passed his tongue over them. Anderson shuddered, but found himself unable to look away from the strange spectacle.

As blade after blade clattered to the floor the smell of blood thickened in the room until even Anderson could smell it. When the last sword had been pulled free and the last wound closed, Seras lay white and unmoving on the bed. The priest's neck was aching from holding it up at this angle, but he could not let himself look away. No breathing or pulse to check – how could anyone tell if she still "lived"? Alucard's red eyes narrowed.

"Police girl. Seras Victoria. No childe of mine is going to die at the hands of the Vatican dogs." The elder vampire pulled back his sleeve and opened a vein with a deft twist of his fangs. He pulled the unmoving girl into his arms, cradling her like a child in his left while he pressed the bleeding wound on his right to her lips. There was a long pause during which neither moved. Then Seras gave a sound, almost a whimper, and clamped her teeth over Alucard's arm.

"Why are you so reluctant to drink human blood, yet take the blood of a vampire with such ease?" the red-eyed man asked almost bemusedly as the girl drank from his veins. It was as if he'd forgotten Anderson was even in the room. "This is the second time, Police Girl."

"What in the name o' God are ye –" the priest could barely form the words as he watched color come back into his rescuer's face.

"God has no place here, Judas Priest," Alucard cut him off, a half smirk crossing his lean visage. He pulled his arm away from Seras, whose eyes had not opened once, and laid her back down with a shocking gentleness. He turned to look at the paralyzed Catholic. "My blood has sustained her unlife – but she'll need human blood to heal."

Anderson stiffened at the implication, and inwardly raged at his unresponsive body. Alucard grinned at him, enjoying his discomfort, and let him squirm for a minute. "But it's much more fun to have you here to play with," he said finally, and went to the mini-fridge in the corner. He shook his head at the amount of blood inside it. "Damnit Police Girl, this wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't been half starved."

He pulled out three blood-packs and brought them over to the bed. Opening each one with his fangs, he carefully fed them to the semiconscious girl, who was too out of it to know what that she was drinking almost desperately that which she normally spurned. If she was even aware at all, Anderson thought, watching the process with a mixture of fascination and revulsion. Almost as if they were forced out of him the words fell from his lips. "

Will the lass be alright?" The elder vampire laughed. Loudly.

"And why would you care, priest?" he sneered.

"Ye aren't gonna be takin care of me if she dies," shot back Anderson, stung. More laughter greeted his words, and Alucard lay Seras back down in the coffin. He stood to his full height and pressed the button to lower the lid, closing the young vampire inside. After a moment of silence, he turned.

"I managed to get there in time," he said with eerie calm. His blood red gaze flicked to the pile of swords lying on the floor. "It was another of you Vatican dogs – a paladin Gabriel Michaelous. Another regenerator. You breed like cockroaches."

"Yer lyin." Anderson shook his head. "There's no regenerators but me."

"That'd be news to him then. He ambushed the Police Girl at the site of the latest FREAK attack. When I got there, he was ranting that he'd been sent by the Vatican to destroy the undead demon who'd eliminated Paladin Alexander Anderson."

"What are ye on about?" demanded the priest. "I'm not dead –" he broke off and swore. "Maxwell must think I –"

"I don't think it matters if you're dead or not, Judas Priest," Alucard said, taking a seat in the nearby chair and propping his boots up on the table. Anderson wasn't certain whether the vampire was keeping an eye on him or on his wounded fledgling.

"I didn't get much time to play with him – not with all the damage he'd done to the Police Girl and that cheap disappearing act you dogs seem to enjoy using. But I did laugh at him for his stupidity – I told him you were alive and well and being kept by us. And do you know what he said to that, Paladin Alexander Anderson?"

The name was drawled out in a mocking tone that made his hackles rise. Alucard didn't wait for a response. "He said, 'Dead or alive, Anderson has been destroyed by the forces of darkness. If alive, corrupted by exposure to their influence for so long. The only thing awaiting him now at the Vatican is a merciful death so his soul may rest in peace AMEN'." The vampire spat the last word at him, and broke into his strange laughter at the look on Anderson's face.

"Lyin demon hellspawn!" Anderson roared at him. The other gave him a look of amusement and malice.

"I don't need to lie tonight, Judas Priest. The truth is far more entertaining." Alucard rose to his feet and gave a mocking short bow. "Goodnight, _former_ dog of the Vatican. Don't disturb the Police Girl, or I'll see to it you're put down." And he walked out through the wall with barely a ripple.

Anderson cursed between his teeth and struggled against his paralysis for a brief moment. A pain in his side warned him of what would happen if he continued, and without anyone to close his stitches back up if he tore them, he was forced to subside. He lay his head back, staring up at the ceiling and feeling like the world had been cut out from beneath him.

The demon had to be lying. There were no other regenerators. The Vatican would not give up on him so easily. So who had forged and blessed those blades, identical to his? No! He was a servant of the one true God, not a weapon to be tossed aside at the slightest hint of damage. He had committed no crime, except that of overestimating the strange vampire Incognito.

He had been cared for by the vampire, but not corrupted, not bitten, not –

Just like that soldier he'd killed.

That Gareth that Seras had mentioned.

Anderson's face went pale and his throat worked. With a groan, he turned his face to the wall.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..."


	4. And Into the Light

Disclaimer: I SO don't own Hellsing. This is just non-profit fanfiction, okayyyyy?

A/N: It took me awhile to get this chapter the way I wanted it! It's rather long, so I hope it's worth the wait. In answer to a reviewer's question, NO this story is not done yet! I have a lot I want to do to – ahem, with – these characters before I'm finished. Read, enjoy and review, folks!

Chapter Four

Seras awoke with a frantic cry and thrashed violently for a moment. Then sense reasserted itself and she opened her eyes, shuddering. Her hands clutched at the mattress below her convulsively.

"Easy girl," said a gruff voice from across the room. "Yer alright." She sat up shakily and looked over at the priest lying on his cot. It took a moment to sink in that he'd actually said something reassuring to her, and when it did she gave him a glance full of bewilderment.

She had been lying on the ground with swords piercing her body. She had been bleeding badly, scorched by the blessings and the silver of the blades. Her vision had darkened as her Master stepped in to face down the raging new paladin. Again she shuddered, her hands going involuntarily to her body. She was surprised that there was no pain, and when she looked, no wounds either. What had happened?

Anderson read her confused look correctly.

"Yer master stepped in ta save ye," he told her. "And brought ye back her ta heal ye." His green eyes met hers and she was puzzled by the weird emotions swirling in them. "Ran his tongue over yer wounds an closed them, fed ye blood from his wrist, then fed ye three donor packs o'blood."

Seras ran a shaky hand through her hair. Her master had gone to such lengths to save her?

: Of course, Police Girl. : Alucard's voice was amused in her mind. : As if I would let one of mine be slaughtered by a Vatican dog. : She was a bit surprised at the underlying tone of protectiveness in his voice. It was very faint, though – perhaps she was imagining it. His tone grew stern. : You would not have been in so much trouble if you weren't nearly starved. Drink your blood, Seras Victoria! :

"Y-yes, my Master," she murmured, head bowed at the force of his words. The young vampire climbed unsteadily out of her coffin. She could feel how much she needed blood right now. The need was so strong her fangs ached.

There was a strangled cough from the cot, and she looked up in time to see a red-faced Anderson turn his head frantically to the wall.

"Ye might want ta change yer uniform, girl!" he sputtered. Blinking, wondering when she'd gone from 'demon' to 'girl', she looked down at her uniform again. This time the gaping tears and holes in the fabric registered.

"Eep!"

Seras scrambled into fresh clothing and removed several blood packs from the refrigerator, placing them on the table with a sigh. Anderson cautiously looked back at her, visibly relieved when he saw she was fully dressed again. She couldn't help but smirk a little. He was cute when he was blushing.

Seras blinked and shook her head, hard. Where had that thought come from? She must really be blood deprived...!

"Yer master said..." he spoke almost hesitantly. "That this was done by a – regenerator."

"Yeah." She sat down and stared at the blood packs, her mind shuddering away from her memories of the night. "Called himself Paladin Gabriel Michaelous. And he regenerated just like you, even used blades and holy papers like you did." The look she gave him started out reproachful, then became startled at the pale expression on his face. "What?"

"Maxwell said there were nae any other regenerators," he spoke almost to himself. "Nae _any_." He passed a hand over his eyes. Seras started.

"You can move again!" she gasped. He blinked at her, then an honest smile, one of the first she'd seen on him, crossed his face.

"Nae much. Just my shoulders and arms." He demonstrated by rubbing his scraggly jaw. "So I can feed myself now, girl." The vampire snickered a bit at the memory of her little 'airplane' stunt. Then his face dropped again, the dull look returning to his green eyes. Seras was starting to realize something wasn't quite right here. "What are ye gonna do with me then, vampire? What'll ye do when I'm healed? What are ye plans for me?"

"I didn't really think it over much," she replied honestly, and poked the blood pack in front of her absently. "I was really just keeping you here so you couldn't go wreaking havoc in England while Sir Integra is in prison. When she gets out...it'll be her decision, but my bet is you'll be presented back to the Vatican...all tied up in a red ribbon, probably." She tried a weak smile, but it failed at the look on his face. He looked like a man who'd lost his best friend and a lot of the anger and venom seemed to have been drained out of him. He looked – lost. "What's wrong with you?"

"The Judas Priest found out he's been replaced," said the deep voice of Alucard as he slid through the wall to stand at the foot of the cot.

"Laugh all ye want, demon," Anderson said tiredly. The lack of malice in his voice startled both the vampires.

"What are you talking about, Master?" Seras queried. The red-coated man explained what the new paladin had said. Anderson kept his eyes on the ceiling throughout, refusing to look at either of them.

"But – that doesn't make any sense!" protested the young woman when the elder vampire was done. "Why would they just – something's not right." She stood up, swaying a bit. "Something isn't adding up." Her brows knitted. "And I think it's got to do with the way you've been acting. The longer you've been here, the calmer you've gotten, Anderson." The priest turned to look at her, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "It's like you're not who you were when we've fought you before."

"What are you saying, police girl?" asked Alucard with great interest.

"I'm not sure, Master." Seras frowned. "When I was in D-11, I saw personality changes like that – and usually they were chemically induced. But I don't think you're the type to be doing drugs, now are you Anderson?" He shook his head. Alucard looked thoughtful.

"I will bring this to my Master's attention," he said. "If what you're saying is correct police girl...it could be useful." He faded out of the room.

"Yer being daft," the priest said with a little more strength. "I was nae being drugged!"

"Then why are you acting so calm? You were like a rabid dog half the time we fought before."

"Real nice, police girl," Anderson snapped. She managed a grin, the familiar nickname Alucard had given her sounding so strange coming from the wounded priest.

"That's a little better. I don't mind being able to actually talk to you, but moping really doesn't suit you."

"I was not moping," he replied, offended.

"Sulking?"

"No!" He fumed. She laughed a little. It really didn't suit him to act so terminally depressed. For some reason, it bothered her to see it. Then she looked down at the blood packs and sighed deeply. She had to force herself to drink these somehow. She could feel how shaky and weak she still was.

"Now who's sulking?" Anderson asked. Seras glared half-heartedly at him.

"I'm not sulking. I'm just...thinking."

"Oh, aye." He raised a blonde eyebrow at her. "I don't understand ye, police girl. Yer a vampire. Why don't ye drink blood?"

"It's not that simple!" protested the girl vehemently. He crossed his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying being able to move them again.

"An why not?"

"It's none of your business," she replied almost sullenly, again poking at one of the blood packs with her finger.

"Well, lass, I am a priest. I'm qualified to hear confessions." His tone was so dry that she laughed in surprise, startling herself.

"I'm not Catholic, Anderson, and I don't believe in confession anyway. If I had anything to say to god, it's between me and him and doesn't need a human go between!" His eyes narrowed.

"We can argue about that later. Are ye gonna talk about it or keep sulking about it? I'm offerin ye an ear here – take it or leave it."

She glared at him. He looked back calmly – not an expression she was accustomed to seeing on his face.

"Do ye need someone else ta start? Fine then, police girl – I was thinkin o'er what ye said the other day, and ye were right. I –" His eyes darkened and a look of self-recrimination passed over his face. "I murdered those soldiers of yers." His face twisted. "The only thing they were guilty of was bein in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She gaped at him, mouth falling open so far her fangs glinted in the light. He met her gaze steadily, green to red.

"You really are different," Seras finally said almost shakily.

"Aye," he agreed softly, almost inaudibly. "I owe a great penance, lass, an maybe I can start it by helpin ye, who hunts down the FREAKS, be stronger. Will ye talk ta me?" There was a weary despair and a hint of desperation in his voice. He really meant it. There was a pause, and she took a deep, unnecessary breath.

"At first...I was scared. I was trying to hold onto my humanity, even though I wasn't human anymore. Drinking blood would have been like – giving up somehow." Her voice strengthened as she kept talking. Neither noticed a pair of red eyes open in the shadows in the corner of the room.

"After awhile though, it sort of became obvious that there wasn't really...a point. I wasn't human anymore – drinking blood or not. But I was still nervous – that by drinking the blood I would lose myself, somehow, even though I drank once and didn't feel any different. That lasted until I met a vampire called Helena." Her eyes saddened. "She'd been made a vampire when she was only a little girl – and she was frozen in that body for all time. She kept to herself, surrounded by books. And she drank blood – but was still....a person."

Seras paused, grimacing at the memory of what Incognito had done to the child-vampire. Anderson waited, his eyes a mystery.

"I even – you know – drank a little of Commander Farguson's blood after he was shot at the tower. It felt right – like I was preserving a little bit of him in me that way." She opened and closed her hands slowly, reliving the pain of watching the man she respected fall. "But even when everything else about humanity and keeping myself was settled there was still one thing left. The most important thing." There was another pause.

"My father was a police officer, Anderson." The young vampire leaned back in her chair. "He was shot in the line of duty." Her sentences became more clipped, and the priest was startled to see bloody tears in her eyes. "They brought him to the hospital. He needed a transfusion. There was a shortage, they'd had an emergency earlier – there was no blood." Her fists clenched.

"He died because there was no blood. And every time I go to drink one of these," her closed hand gestured at the blood pack, "all I can think is that somewhere someone else's father could be dying for lack of it, while I use it as it wasn't intended by the donator, to keep my unlife going."

There. She'd said it, admitted it out loud at last. She waited for the Catholic to laugh at her foolishness, to mock her weakness.

And waited.

Finally she peeked up through her bangs at Anderson. He was still on his back with his hands behind his head. He was gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling, his brow furrowed slightly.

"I can see why that would bother ye so much, police girl," he said finally. Seras gaped at him, not expecting that. "No matter what ye may become, ye started out human, and human things can trouble ye. Look at me, if it makes ye feel better."

He looked at her, raising his shaggy eyebrows. "My father was a ravin alcoholic who beat the daylights out of me an me mother on a daily basis. I never touched a drop of the stuff till I became a regenerator. Then it turns out that the metabolism's so high it burns out some of the things my body needs – so I have to drink almost every day."

She blinked at the personal knowledge. He _did _understand. How very strange...

"But I kin tell ye this much, lass," he said. "Maxwell looked high an low to find out where Hellsing was gettin the blood for its vampires from. And all his lookin couldn't find nothing. Wherever ye get that blood supply," he nodded at the pack still sitting on the table. "It ain't from any hospital or donor center in England, I can tell ye that much."

"With good reason." Alucard materialized out of the wall. Seras stood up so fast she knocked the chair to the floor.

"M-Master? You were listening?" she stammered. "I thought you went to talk to Sir Integra." Anderson was frowning at the elder vampire's intrusion.

"All this time here and it's the Judas Priest who uncovers the secret behind the police girl's reluctance to drink." He looked amused. The priest actually rolled his eyes at the derogatory moniker. "This mansion houses the most advanced blood storage system my master could acquire. The blood in these bags is collected from the Hellsing soldiers, police girl."

"What?" gasped Seras. His red eyes never left hers.

"The soldiers donate monthly to the supply. There is blood there from every soldier who has passed through these walls. Given to support the midians who handle the FREAKS too strong for their weak mortal abilities."

Anderson looked impressed at that, if still disbelieving that these vampires, even the great monster Alucard, fed mostly on donated blood. The poor fledgling vampire looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing her mouth in shock.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she burst out finally. "Master! Why didn't you or Walter or someone tell me before?"

"No one ever thought it made a difference," he retorted. "I'd tell you to forget about the manner your father died, to leave it with the rest of your mortal life, but I already know it would fall on deaf ears." Seras blushed. Alucard smirked. "So now you know that the blood was never meant for hospitals, Seras Victoria. Drink!" And he turned and stalked out of the room, directly through the door without pausing.

Anderson and Seras looked at each other in shock a moment, and then, unaccountably, began to laugh. It was strained, somewhat hysterical laughter to be sure, but laughter all the same.

"So," said the young woman when she'd gotten herself under control, "you need alcohol?"

"Aye," he grimaced. "It is gettin to the point where it's necessary."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I think I have a way to get this over with more easily for the both of us...."

* * *

Alucard strolled through the halls of the underground, ambling back to the room where his fledgling and the paladin were housed. His master had given him orders pertaining to the Judas Priest, and he would be certain both of them knew what he was going to do. As he approached the door, he began to hear strange noises from within the room.

THUMP! "Beat that, paladin!" The police girl.

THUMP! THUMP! "I jus' did, vampire!" The priest.

THUMP! "I'm still ahead of you."

THUMP! THUMP! "No yer not – ye lost count that's all."

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! "Beat that, Judas Priest!"

"Damnit, Draculina, that's cheatin!"

Thoroughly curious now, Alucard phased through the door and stepped into the room. His eyes widened behind his orange glasses.

The priest was sitting propped up with the table right along side him. Across from him sat the police girl. On the table between the two were numerous shot glasses that appeared to have been collected from all over the mansion. Many were empty. A number were filled with what smelled like the good brandy Walter kept hidden. Slightly fewer were filled with blood.

Anderson snatched up a shot glass and gulped the contents down, then slammed the glass on the table. This resulted in the 'thump' that Alucard had been hearing. To his surprise and delight, Seras snatched up two glasses of blood, gulped them one after the other, and slammed the glasses down on the table. From the empty bottles and blood packs lying discarded on the floor, this had been going on for some time.

"Got over your reluctance, did you police girl?" The elder vampire asked. Both of them looked up at him in surprise, wearing nearly identical buzzed expressions on their faces.

"Master!" Seras jumped up, and swayed a little. Alucard's eyebrows lifted. She'd actually drunk enough to be – well, drunk – off the blood.

"Good ta see ye again, demon," Anderson lifted a glass towards the vampire. "Yer fledgling's been losin ta me in this bout all night long!"

"I have not!" The girl protested, picking up a glass and offering it to her master. Highly amused, he accepted it and drank it. She beamed at him and absently licked a spilled drop off her hand like a cat cleaning its paws.

"You're blood drunk, police girl," he told her.

"And he's bloody drunk," she replied cheerfully, indicating Anderson before sitting back down. "I feel good, master. For the first time in – a long time."

"You caught up on what your body needed, police girl."

Who'd have thought having the Judas Priest here would have resulted in this? His amused grin widened. He really ought to find one of those cameras that Walter was so fond of. This might be an excellent blackmail opportunity.

"Good," Seras yawned, curling the tip of her tongue upwards. "Why are you here master? No missions for you either?"

"I've been ordered by my master," he told her with a smirk, "to investigate into the priest's dismissal and change of behavior. So I will be gone for a while. You will have to take care of the FREAKS in my absence, police girl."

"You can count on me, master," Seras replied solemnly, the effect spoiled by her hair falling down over one eye. She picked up another shot glass, then frowned and put it down. "I'm not thirsty any more. Finally."

Alucard's smile took on a hint of pride. His fledgling, even in this state, was controlled enough to drink only as much as she was thirsty for. Not like those pathetic bonny-and-clyde imitations that had slaughtered and drunk past their fill on the police girl's second mission in Hellsing.

Anderson had fallen asleep in the meantime, his head back and displaying his throat quite temptingly. Amazing what alcohol could do to a human's survival instincts. Too bad a bloodstream full of alcohol tasted so wretched. Chuckling to himself, the elder vampire left the room, wondering if the priest's regeneration abilities would do anything to stop the hangover he knew would follow such a binge. He hoped not.

Back in the room, Seras was absently cleaning up the remains of the drinking contest. She still felt light headed and buzzed, but also quite good. And sleepy. Dawn was approaching. She started for her coffin, then paused and turned around. Quietly she moved the table away from the cot and knelt beside the sleeping priest.

Quick as thought, she leaned down and kissed the man softly on the forehead.

"Never thought I'd say this, but...thank you, Anderson."

And she went to her coffin and curled up happily for her day's sleep.


	5. Freedom's Price

A.N: Hey all. This chapter was most intense to write. I hope you enjoy it, because I put a lot into it. A warning – due to circumstances within this story, the characters are not going to be acting exactly like they do in the anime or manga. Please try to understand that this is fanfiction, and I'm extrapolating how the characters might behave in circumstances we never see them in in the canon.

Thank you to all reviewers! Several of you left responses that I need to address.

White Silence: Anderson doesn't need to get drunk every day. He needs alcohol intake every day. The theory is that his metabolism moves so fast it burn some things out of him. The idea is actually from X-men; all the regenerators there (Wolverine, Sabertooth) tend to drink a lot and heavily even though they can't get drunk. My thought was that it had something to do with the nature of the rapid healing. Anderson was drinking a lot because he had not been having the alcohol he needed for awhile. It was catch-up.

KarlaPomfeather: (rereads chapter 4) Damn! I – er – meant that the soldiers donate on a rotating schedule so that some is collected every month. Not that every soldier gives every month, a person can only donate every two or three months. That's what I meant. Really. Honest. (bangs head on keyboard)

BlackFireDragonK: 'Update or die'? I'm already undead! Mwahahahah! No seriously, don't leave me messages like that. It's not cool. I have two or three other major writing projects in addition to this fanfic – and one of those is something I hope to publish. That's on top of 40 hours of work per week. I'll update, but I don't like threats. Begging is fine though, lol. And in answer to your question, I doubt Alucard and Anderson will ever be buddies. But tolerance? Well...we'll just have to see.

Thess: (shrugs) I don't know where you are, but the manga here is only up to number 3. (drools at the idea of more). So yeah, this is heavily anime based. As for Iscariot (bonks Thess on head with mallet) Seras SAID that it was weird, that's why they're going to investigate, because it DOESN'T make sense that Iscariot would just abandon him. I hope your fic comes out well; I always love to see new Hellsing stuff!

Chapter Five

Things settled into a routine the night after the drinking bout. Much to Alucard's disappointment, Anderson awoke without a hangover. Seemed that his regeneration abilities were slowed down enough to allow him to get drunk, but still high enough to prevent the hangover.

Alucard was going to Italy to investigate the reasons why Iscariot might have so easily abandoned its operative, and what might be behind the strangely calm behavior Anderson was displaying. Seras had wondered if imprisonment had driven Sir Integra mad. Sending _Alucard_ on a spy mission – anywhere near _the Vatican?_

He'd laughed at her, and at the panicked expression on the Judas Priest's face.

"My Master's threats on what might happen should your pope suddenly pass away while I am in the country were fairly explicit, Judas Priest. And close your mouth police-girl – when the Angel of Death gets out of the hospital, you can ask him about the last war he and I fought in and the missions we had."

Seras closed her mouth with a snap, but both continued to stare at him somewhat owlishly. He'd informed her that she would be in charge of the anti-FREAK operations while he was gone. Another shock. But a responsibility she was willing to accept.

Things became routine quickly after Alucard left. Seras went out every night and performed the duties of the Hellsing organization. Then she returned and made food for Anderson, and both would drink their respective 'beverages'. There were no more drinking games, though.

Anderson continued to remain eerily changed. He did not go off into insane ramblings against vampires and Protestants and heathens. He spent much of the time that Victoria was away in meditation and prayer.

That did not mean he lost his edge though. With no one else to really talk to, the priest and the young vampire turned to one another for relief from the pressing boredom of solitude. They argued about Catholicism and the Church of England. They shouted at one another over issues of true vampires, birth control, and whether blades or guns were better weapons. They screamed at each other over confession, the possibility of a goddess as opposed to a god, and Alucard, the latter pushing the priest's accent almost to the point of complete and utter incomprehensibility. One of the best arguments they had was whether Anderson's holy magic could hurt vampires because it came from God and God hated vampires – or if it was a type of magic developed by humans to combat vampires and simply labeled as God's will. _That_ argument lasted all day long, and neither could conclusively claim victory when it was done.

Neither could ever remember having so much fun. Well, fun that didn't involve bloodshed.

Seras, because she was getting her nightly ration of blood, was getting progressively stronger. Her Harkonnen became even easier for her to lift and carry, and wounds she received healed rapidly on their own. She felt surer of herself, less vulnerable. Other things began to happen too – some vampiric abilities that had been dormant due to her starved state began to awaken. This was most dramatically demonstrated one night when she absent-mindedly walked through her bedroom door instead of opening it, shocking the hell out of both herself and Anderson.

Anderson was another story though.

Despite regaining control over his upper body, he continued to deteriorate. He was slowly weakening, finding it harder to move or stay awake. Despite Seras' continued feeding of him, he began to lose weight, and had a difficult time getting or staying warm. Something was very wrong, and they both knew it.

"This doesn't make sense!" exploded Seras one night three weeks after Alucard's departure. Anderson looked up from his listless pushing his food around his plate. His appetite had recently fallen off severely.

"What doesn't?" Seras growled and paced about the room unhappily.

"You!" she snapped, kicking aside one of the silver blades from the other paladin still lying about her room. "You should be getting better, not worse. There's no reason for it that I can see!" He put his plate aside and shrugged, green eyes tracking her restless movements.

"It could be that Incognito's curse," he suggested sourly. "I cannae feel his filthy magic aboot me any more, though." His face hardened slightly. "Or perhaps its my penance."

Seras stopped.

"_What?_"

"My penance, lass." His eyes were haunted. "Fer my actions against innocents – all in the name of God."

"Stop that." She dropped into her chair and glared at him. "That's stupid. God doesn't work like that, and you know it."

"In the book of –"

"Don't quote Bible texts at me!" she protested irritably, while he smirked a little. Seras hated trying to argue against the scriptures.

"My sins are mortal ones," he said quietly. "An worse since I did them all in God's name. I deserve whatever penance He may lay on me." Since Seras had watched firsthand some of his mortal sins, she could only wince.

"This would be easier if you were still a raving lunatic you know. It's hard to hate you when you're like this." She dropped her head on the table. That did make him laugh.

"Like it's an easy timer fer me, police girl. Owing my life ta a dirty vampire." There was a note of something near teasing in his tone. Seras stuck her tongue out at him. Given her vampiric nature, that was an impressive sight.

"Creep."

"Wench."

"Zealot."

"Heathen."

"Ass-"

"If I could interrupt," said a deep, amused voice. Anderson and Seras whipped their heads around to see Alucard phasing in through the wall. He wore a black suit, his hair an unbound brown curtain behind him, his eyes laughing and red. In his gloved hand was a thick manila folder.

"Master!" The police girl stood up sharply. "When did you get back?"

"In time to hear your mature exchange of names," he replied sardonically. His eyes narrowed as he took in his fledgling. "You have been drinking." It was not a question.

"Every night," she replied quietly, meeting his eyes firmly. He grinned both at her response and her boldness, fangs gleaming in the overhead light.

: _We will talk later, Seras Victoria,_ : he said to her mentally, noting her surprised look at his use of her name. His gaze turned on the priest watching from the cot.

"You look like shit, Vatican dog," he informed the man casually. Anderson snorted.

"It's probably the attempts a' food the police girl makes me eat," he replied just as casually. Both man and monster smirked at the angry sputters from said woman, looking eerily similar for a brief moment. It would have completely horrified them both if they'd realized it.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" asked Seras after a moment, desperate to reclaim some dignity. Alucard's brows dipped a little, and he held out the folder wordlessly. She took it, frowning. "This is –"

"The file on Iscariot's regenerators." He stressed the plural, making the priest's eyes widen in disbelief. "And on your pet here. Feel free to go over it – I've already shown it to my Master." He gave them both an inscrutable look. "Speak with me later," he told Seras flatly, and walked out through the door. As his back was to them, neither vampire girl nor priest saw the thoughtful, amused look on his face.

Seras and Anderson looked at each other, then shrugged. She dragged her chair over to his cot so they could both go over the documents within.

"I should nae be doin this," the priest muttered. "These documents were stolen –"

"They're about you," pointed out Seras. "That makes them fair game." He hesitated, then nodded once, and they opened the folder.

* * *

Hours later, Anderson was pale, and Seras felt sick. The open folder lay on the table, the documents scattered about. They'd gone through them all, several of them repeatedly. Neither one could believe the information within.

It had been standard at first, on the scientific and magical work that had gone into making a human into a regenerator. But things got ugly very fast. There was a list of subjects – not one willing – who had been taken and used by Section Thirteen as experiments. That they were non-Catholics seemed to be all the justification needed.

Then came something worse – a letter from the leader of Iscariot before Enrico Maxwell to the researchers. Anderson had to translate – it was in Italian. It was very simple. The process to create a regenerator was complete. But the man in charge wasn't satisfied. So powerful a weapon must be completely under Iscariot's control. He'd ordered the researchers to find a way to make the regenerators unwaveringly, unquestioningly loyal to him and the Church.

And they'd responded. More experiments had followed, resulting in a chemical cocktail that heightened the subject/victim's aggression levels and pushed them into a state bordering on psychosis. It created both unswerving hatred for vampires and heathens and anyone who associated with them; it also made them fanatically loyal to the Church and Iscariot. Of course, it made the subject fairly unstable, but this man had considered that a non-issue. These were weapons, and as long as he was the one to be able to aim them, he didn't care how explosively they went off.

But they needed a way to make sure their weapon could not be used by anyone else. A way to be certain that if their weapon fell into the wrong hands, it would be rendered useless. They achieved that splendidly, incorporating an addictive nature into the drugs they used to control the mentality of the regenerator. If the regenerator went without it for more than two weeks, the body would begin to suffer, ultimately leading to death from withdrawal.

"It cannae – it cannae be true," Anderson had whispered hoarsely. Then they'd turned a page and found his own file. And Anderson's world fell apart.

He was the very first regenerator fully created by Iscariot. He had been a soldier found nearly dead after apparently trying to kill himself, raving about monsters and vampires. He'd had a run-in with Alucard and Walter on one of their missions in the war, and it had exacerbated his already developing 'shellshock'.

So they took him, and they made him a regenerator, complete with the chemical control system. They carefully manipulated his recovery so he would be even more fully into their control, unobtrusively turning his feet towards the Church. He was named a Paladin of Section Thirteen. Trained and sent out to hunt down the undead.

Never actually ordained a priest. That was a lie carefully cultivated in his mind. He was a weapon, not worthy of that actual title, but by making him think so he was even more ensnared by them.

And always Iscariot had been in careful control. At first his food and drink were always spiked with the chemicals needed to keep him unbalanced and controlled. Failing that they would simply take him in and give him injections, under the guise of upkeep for his regeneration abilities.

Then Maxwell had come into power. He'd taken a look at the system and declared it too risky and complicated. Under his instruction, the scientists had created an implant that kept feeding the drugs to Anderson. With it, he need not have his food or drink monitored – they could simply refill it on a monthly basis under those same upkeep masquerades. He'd also expanded the program. The Church was wavering in the passing years. Organizations like Hellsing were competition and a threat. Especially once Alucard was released from his cell by Integra. They became targets as well.

The withdrawal symptoms read like a blow-by-blow description of Anderson in the past few weeks. Returning lucidity and the ability to reason and doubt. Followed by gradual deterioration as the full effects of the withdrawal took hold. And there, in black and white, the reason why the Iscariots had declared him dead to them. The process was irreversible once begun. When they'd sent out the other paladin – of whom there were _three_, not one as Anderson had been told – the wounded priest had already passed the time frame where he could be restored. He was dying now.

Seras felt a surge of rage bordering on bloodlust. Despite her anger at Anderson himself, she'd at least held some mote of respect for Section Thirteen, as another organization seeking to protect the innocent from the undead. But this – this – was an atrocity, a betrayal of the highest order. And they called the vampires monster?

A sound from beside her made her look at Anderson. He was shaking.

"I'm – a bloody – fool," he managed to say, giving a laugh that bordered on the hysterical. "All this time – all this time-" his accent was thickening rapidly. "An here Ai though ye midians were th'abominations when they – Ai –"

He was weeping, Seras realized. His life had just been as shattered as hers the moment Alucard's bullet had exploded through her chest. And at least she'd had a choice. Without thinking about it, she placed her arms around the stricken man. He flinched violently for a moment, then allowed her to hold him. Seras fought to keep her rage in check.

How dare they? How dare they do this? How dare they claim moral superiority while they destroyed lives, not to protect so much as to keep themselves in power? She bared her fangs, pupils narrowing.

_How dare they hurt that which was hers?_

The thought and the surge of possessiveness that accompanied it shocked Seras back into control. Her face colored and she swallowed hard. Where had that thought come from? She loosened her grip on the priest – no, he wasn't even a priest, not really! – and he moved away, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "I –"

"There's nothing to forgive," she assured him, forcing herself to smile. "If I'd gotten this kind of news – I wouldn't be handling it nearly so well." He chuckled, the sound a bit strained to both of them.

"I need ye – to do me a favor," Anderson said finally. He had to know. He had to know for certain. The vampire looked at him nervously. "Th'implant. If it's there, it's in my thigh. I want ye to – take it out."

"What? But I –" He seized her hand, and she fell silent, staring at him. She was blushing a little – he wondered vaguely why.

"I cannae feel them still. It won't hurt me – but I have tae _know_." Seras swallowed hard, blinking at his desperate face.

"L-lay down," she instructed finally. With a sigh of thanks, he did so. She pulled back the blankets covering him. He was still in only his boxers – a fact she'd never really been aware of till now. This was so embarrassing! Then she looked back at his face and his haunted eyes, and lost the ability to say no. She moved around the room, gathering up things to do this with, and felt a sudden pang of guilt.

"This is my fault," she said quietly. He looked at her sharply as she pulled out the needle and thread to stitch him up with. "If I hadn't brought you here – away from where they could get to you –"

"_No_," he said forcefully, with some of his old spirit. He glared at her. "Don't ye go blamin yerself fer this, lass. If ye hadnae brought me here, I'd hae died from the wounds Incognito gave me. Or did ye forget that? Ye – delayed the inevitable, is all ye did." His eyes darkened. "Ye gave me a chance ta be myself again – ta be – free."

Neither of them said anything else as Seras knelt beside the cot. She looked carefully at the diagram in the folder, making sure she would cut in the right spot. And she was grateful he still could not feel his legs, because she didn't think pain would have stopped him even if he could.

She cut, and cut deep. Blood immediately began to flow, but she was fed now and not so starved as to do anything but enjoy the smell. Carefully she reached into the wound, while he watched with a haunted look on his face.

There was nothing. There was nothing – wait, there! Her fingers touched metal and plastic. Swallowing, she pulled it out of his flesh, and quickly pressed a bandage against the bleeding wound. In her hand was a mechanical device, exactly as diagrammed in the folder.

Anderson took it from her wordlessly. He examined it for a long moment, and then with a wordless scream of rage threw it against the far wall with soft crack. He gripped the sides of the cot and forcibly calmed himself.

"An now I know," he hissed between his teeth. "Thank ye."

"Don't thank me for this," she shook her head. "And hold still so I can stitch you up."

"Why bother?" His eyes were dulled. "Ye read it same as me, police girl. I'll be dead in less than a week anyways."

Whack!

Anderson's eyes went wide as she slapped him. The young vampire glared at him, clenching her bloody hands.

"Don't you dare start that. I don't care if it says you'll die in five minutes, I'll still take care of you. There has to be a way out of this – and I'll find it."

He stared up at her, glaring down at him with her eyes snapping and her chest heaving.

She was beautiful.

He blinked in confusion. It had been years since he'd felt that way about a woman, and the idea of looking at her as anything but a dirty demon had never even crossed his mind. Vaguely he wondered what the hell was happening to him, and how much of it was the drugs and withdrawal and how much was the real him – the real Alexander Anderson – coming back.

Seras knelt down again by the cot, trying to hide her shaking hands. She didn't know what was happening to her. It was like some new part of her had been awakened and was laying claim to Anderson. She – had to talk to her Master. Soon.

The blood still flowed from his leg. Seras winced at how quickly the bandage turned red. She had cut far deeper than she'd known.

That same new part of her reacted to the wound strangely. She found herself leaning closer, lips parted.

"Police girl?" Anderson asked sharply. Was she going to bite him, he wondered incredulously. Her eyes turned to meet his, and there was something in them that made his stomach tighten.

"Hold still, Alex," she said in a strange voice. He blinked at the very personal name. "I'm going to take care of this for you."

The old Anderson would never have considered it, not even for a heartbeat. He'd have been doing his best to strangle, beat, and otherwise kill the vampire girl before she'd gotten so close.

But now...

Anderson was amazed to realize that somehow, he trusted her. He nodded in acquiescence, wondering at himself and her, as she leaned closer to the wound. Her long tongue snaked out, and she began to lick the cut.

He hadn't felt his legs in weeks, but he felt THAT alright. He gave a wordless gasp at the sensations it sent running through him.

Seras hadn't known what exactly what she was going to do until she did it. Something completely instinctive had taken over, and she was just along for the ride. Then, for the first time, her mouth was filled with hot, living, human blood. Her whole being reacted. She could smell his physical response, hear his heart start jack hammering. She herself was nearly overcome with the taste of it, touching nerves throughout her body. It was – so – good...

Beneath her ministrations, the wound began to close. Seras fought with herself, forcing herself to only lick, not to bite down. She could not fight off the slight whimper as the cut finally healed and the blood stopped.

She pulled away slowly, reluctantly, feeling flushed. Anderson was panting, staring at her with almost glazed eyes.

"Did nae – know – ye could do that," he managed.

"N-neither did I," she whispered. The way he was looking at her! The way her body was reacting to that look! "I – I have to go – I'll talk to you later!" She almost fell in her rush to get away, either from him or herself she wasn't so certain. She ran right through the door and collapsed to her knees in the stone corridor outside.

: _Master!_ : She almost wailed. : _What's happening to me?_ : She staggered to her feet and down the corridor, falling right through the door to Alucard's room and literally into the elder vampire, who'd just been rising from his chair. : _What's happening to me?_ : Not caring what happened, she fisted her hands in his clothing and wept in confusion and fear.

Down the hall, Anderson was still shaking on the cot.

For a moment, he'd almost begged her to stop her licking – and to bite down.

A/N: Phew! Please read and review, I'd really like to know how you all felt about this chapter!


	6. Freedom of a Different Sort

A/N: Phew! Sorry to take so long updating, but this chapter was slowwww in coming to me. I appreciate all of your encouragement about this story, and I'm glad you like it! Here's some review responses.

Believe: That's right. And it's actually canon, according to the anime. In the fight in the subway between Alucard and Anderson, he flashes back to himself in a WWII uniform, facing a vampiric shadow, and putting a gun in his mouth. I assume the regeneration kept him alive, since aging is simply deterioration in the ability of cells to reproduce themselves properly. Regeneration would fix that.

Redrose Moon: (evil grin) why yes, that was a very deliberate cliffy. And she was so surprised because she just didn't know how to react to what she was doing and feeling.

Thess: Ah, thanks for clarifying. I don't usually read translations, so I'm waiting on the mangas as they come out over here. I need to get my hands on volume four...

Sethriel: Glad you like it....fan art? Would you maybe consider doing fan art for this story?

Chapter Six

Alucard had trouble understanding human mentality. So it was that he stared down at his sobbing fledgling with more confusion than anything else. Because let's be honest – Seras Victoria might be a vampire, but her mentality was still very human.

He placed a gloved hand on her back while she wept into his clothing. She must have cried at some point before, but he couldn't recall her doing so – and certainly not with such enthusiasm. Probing into her mind, he tried to sort out what was causing this unusual display. He had an inkling that it was somehow connected with the judas priest. For obvious reasons.

His scarlet eyes widened, then narrowed. His fangs gleamed as he smiled. Of course. What else would cause this level of confusion? Some of her mentality was finally changing – and she hadn't the slightest idea what was happening.

Momentarily, he chided himself. He was being remiss in his duties, even if it was not intentional. He'd forgotten that many things instinctive to him were not to her. Or – not yet. She had to be told things like any child.

Part of him was also amazed at her willpower. The very first time she'd tasted hot blood, and yet she'd restrained herself from biting down on the ex-vatican dog's flesh. Unbelievable.

_: You have been drinking blood,: _he told her mentally. Sometimes speaking aloud was unnecessary. _: Both your abilities and your instincts have begun to come fully awake for the first time. : _ She began to still against him, her crying receding.

_: I don't understand, Master. I don't understand what I'm thinking or feeling or WHY!:_ He chuckled.

_: Integra's father tried to put it into human terms once, : _ he said with amusement. _: A human is not by nature a predator. Not a true predator, although some of you do seem to manage to transcend that. : _His mind flashed briefly on both Integra and Walter. _: We are predators, blood and bone, mind and soul. That is what you are feeling, what you are coming aware of. The claim you feel on the Judas Priest is on many levels. : _ Alucard smirked wider and decided he'd remain silent on one of the levels he'd begun sensing. It was just too amusing. _: You have placed him under your protection. You regard him as 'yours' on a very deep level. If you were a true no-life king, you'd be preparing to make him one of us. _

_: Oh! : _ Clearly that shocked her. _: You're that way about - : _ He made a soft sound, and she cut that thought off faster than he'd thought her capable. In truth he wasn't really angry, but something had occurred to him. If she was feeling this way about the Judas Priest, then maybe, just maybe...

_: Be silent. : _He made sure his voice would strike her like a slap to the face. _: You will not speak of such things while I am your Master. : _ Alucard could feel the delightful anger welling up unbidden in his fledgling. Even better, she did not try to suppress it as she had so often before. She pulled away from him, eyes flashing, fangs biting her lips as she held her tongue. Clearly he needed to push just a little farther. _: You are naught but a puppet while my blood still makes yours flow. Puppets may not think above their Masters! :_

That finally did it. Suppressed rage, built up tension, all sorts of dark and powerful emotions welled up to the top as she finally was pushed too far. The weak often found a way to kill themselves at this point. But Seras Victoria was not weak. He'd known that the night in Cheddar when he'd seen her fighting to stay alive while all around her things went to hell.

_: I'M NO ONE'S PUPPET! : _she screamed mentally, and launched herself at him. Alucard did not move, did not block, though he could easily have done so. Instead, he laughed wildly as she sank her virgin fangs into his throat and began to drink.

"That's it, Seras Victoria," he purred even as her teeth bit deeper into his flesh. Marvelous. "Drink. Drink of my blood, walk the night under your own power as a true no-life king. Take the next step in becoming a midian of my family!"

He felt her hold start to slip in surprise at his words, but she'd already accomplished what he'd tried so hard to get her to do. Her heart, still for many months, gave one solitary, painful beat as she retook control over her own systems. Seras screamed into his shoulder, then collapsed shuddering against him. He caught her as she started to slide off of him, and set her down on her feet.

Seras stared up at the grinning vampire, panting, feeling extremely strange.

"You did that on purpose," she accused hoarsely, still shaken up. His grin widened. Part of her was infuriated, but another part of her was thrilled. Understanding had come with his blood – that he did this not to get rid of her, but to make her stronger, independent, and ready for the next part of her growth as a midian. The deep seated fear of being ripped away from his mental touch in the back of her head, being alone again, was gone.

She was his family, in ways that a human could not process the term. He was no longer her Master, but still her Sire, and that bond would be between them until true death claimed one of them.

A/N: Yes, I know it's an itty bitty chapter. I just wanted to make sure you all knew I wasn't dead and would still be updating this. The next chapter should come out faster, HOPEFULLY within the next week – and whenever it does come out, I promise it will be lengthy. Til then – ja, ne!


	7. Coming to Terms

Disclaimer: I don't own it, no profit – oh, just read!

A/N: Well, here's the last of it, except for the epilogue. I've gotten my hands on the 4th manga, and I realize that compared to the real thing, this I'm writing is sorely lacking. Sigh. But since we'll never see this in the real thing...ah well. Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me during this. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

A week passed.

Seras's nights became even more busy as Alucard added training on top of whatever missions were at hand. He was incredibly good at arousing that rage in her, the one which had prompted her to bite him in the first place. He manipulated her openly as he taught her to control her rapidly growing powers. She walked through walls at will now, occasionally amusing herself by popping out of the walls or ceiling to startle Anderson. Walter, finally out of the hospital, was annoyingly not scareable. He'd dealt with Alucard for too long.

While Seras was growing stronger, Anderson was growing weaker. Daily he slipped a little further away. He slept a great deal of the time, and his voice was a shadow of its former self.

It enraged Seras.

It made her angrier than anything else did, and she still wasn't entirely sure why, despite Alucard's explanations. When she looked at the dying man, she wanted to kill someone. Preferably Maxwell. He was the most obvious target, after all.

Friday, October 23rd dawned clear and cold. Seras knew this because she skipped into the house just before the sun rose. She snagged a blood pack and sucked on it idly as she made her way into the basement. She was weary, and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

Alucard was waiting for her, seated in a chair with his feet on the table. Anderson slept in his cot, oblivious to the presence of the master vampire. That alone was enough to indicate how badly he had degenerated.

"You will be staying in the mansion tonight," he told her as she walked in.

"No missions?" That was surprising. Anderson stirred and murmured in his sleep, and Seras gave him a quick, pained glance. She did not observe the strange smile that crossed Alucard's face as he watched this.

"The mission is to guard the mansion. Integra is coming home." That got her attention.

"Finally!" Alucard bared his fangs in disgust.

"Yes. The round table has finished scrambling around protecting their precious selves and it's safe to clear the one who saved them in the first place."

"Are you sure we can't terrorize them just a little?" Seras asked wistfully. She'd been learning to play around with her powers. It had disturbed her at first how much fun she had scaring people, but had finally just accepted it as unavoidable. Especially with Alucard as her Sire. Besides, a girl had to have fun somehow.

"Integra said no," smirked the older vampire. "Some of them might accidentally die of shock and then she'd be in there even longer." His grin widened. "Maybe when she's settled back in."

* * *

Alexander Anderson wasn't certain what had woken him at first. He was so tired the past week. It was harder and harder to stay awake, the final stages of the withdrawal. Eventually he wouldn't wake at all.

Inside his weakened body, he raged at the unfairness of it. He raged at his weakness and helplessness, at how he'd been used and manipulated.

And then his mind would turn to a certain strawberry blonde vampire, and he would feel...

He wasn't sure. Longing? Desire? Something more? Something had changed and grown between them. He didn't know precisely what it was, or what it could become if not for the fact that he was dying by inches. He'd felt her hands stroking his hair more than once. Other times, when she thought him sleeping, she'd even placed a gentle kiss on his face.

What God might think, he no longer thought he knew. All he did know was that he wanted to be strong again, so he could...reciprocate.

What had woken him? He opened his eyes and heard it again. Metal on metal. His eyes darted across the room and he gasped.

The muscular, brunette paladin with the too-familiar swords rang them across each other once more.

"At least your association with heretics and demons has brought you what you deserved," sneered the other man. "God is punishing your betrayal with such illness."

"God haes naught ta do wi'it," Alex replied. Could he get through to this man, chained unknowingly as he had been? "We are drugged by th' Vatican t'be more obedient. This is withdrawal."

Paladin Gabriel Michaelous shook his head in disbelief, eyes showing a madness Alex knew all too well.

"Now you slander the Mother Church as well. In the name of God," he began to advance across the room. Alex tried furiously to move, but was unable to. "The souls of the impure and undead," How had he gotten into the mansion? The ex-paladin's eyes went wide. Seras didn't know. She wasn't in her coffin. Where was she? This madman would kill her for certain this time. SERAS! "Shall be sent to Hell." Michaelous stood over him and raised one of the knives. "AMEN!"

And the blade came down.

* * *

Seras tore through the halls, gun in hand. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Her blood was humming. She wrenched open the door to the basement so hard it was torn from its hinges. Disregarding this, she kept going. It was Alex. There was something wrong with him.

She burst through her door without pausing and gave a cry. The blond Scotsman was lying on the floor, a blessed blade sunk to the hilt in his chest. His eyes were open and she saw in them rage, pain, and – fear. Somehow, he was still alive.

"Behind you!" he rasped, and she ducked and turned as a blade whistled through the air where her head had been a moment before.

It was the other paladin. Michaelous. In here, somehow.

And he'd hurt Alex.

Seras rushed at him, firing, any fear she might have harbored overwhelmed by her rage. Her first bullets struck, but he shook them off like a dog shaking off water.

On the floor, Anderson grasped the hilt of the sword. Dying or not, he was still regenerating. He ripped it clear of his body, feeling his regenerative abilities fighting to heal the dreadful wound. How Michaelous had missed, he had no idea. Knife in hand, adrenaline spurring his weakened body to perform, he dragged himself towards the unfolding fight between vampire and paladin.

Already most of the furniture was wrecked. How they would contain this battle within the small room was incomprehensible.

Seras had the sense to call warnings to Alucard as she dodged the knives flying towards her. She was faster than when she'd faced this prick last. Faster, stronger, and with some new tricks. She slid into the wall and came out behind him, firing bullets into his back, aiming for the spine.

He was surprised, clearly. He had underestimated her to the point that he hadn't even put up a barrier to stop her powers – he hadn't thought she had any to worry about. He lashed out as he fell, bringing her to the floor with him. Only one arm currently working, he reared back to sever her head in one clean stroke. Seras threw up one arm even as she began to sink into the floor to escape the blow.

There was a shower of blood as a blessed blade erupted through the chest of the raging paladin. He stared dumbly down at it in shock for a moment. Seras froze half in and half out of the floor in confusion. The blade ripped upwards, cleaving Michaelous up the center from mid-chest right through his skull. He hit the ground, vanishing in a swirl of papers, too wounded to fight back – if he'd even regenerate from such a maiming.

Behind him, still holding the blade, was Anderson. He was on his knees, mouth contorted in a snarl, eyes wild. How he'd managed to do such a thing in his weakened state, not to mention break through the paralysis on his legs, Seras had no idea.

His snarl became a half smile.

"Got th'bastard," he laughed, and fell forward onto his face.

"Alex!" Seras flew to his side and turned him over. He was bleeding heavily from the wound in his chest, and it was not healing anywhere near fast enough to save him. "Damnit. Damnit!" There were tears on her face, and she didn't know why.

"Better t'fall in battle than die in th'sickbed," he told her hoarsely, chuckling a little. The chuckling became a tearing cough, and he spat blood to one side. "Ye know, lass, it's too bad. I wanted ta see if..." More coughing. He rolled his eyes and took the hand she had on his face. Gently, he kissed it. Her tears rolled faster. His smile was almost lecherous. "Not a real priest, after all, am I?"

But he'd lived as one. Seras's mind locked onto that fact. Her eyes flew wide as she looked at the man that somehow, without her realizing it, she'd been growing to love.

"Anderson, are you a virgin?" He laughed, a choked, gurgling sound.

"Not fair t'ask a man that, but – yes."

"You can come with me. You don't have to die."

His green eyes met her red ones in a kind of shock. She couldn't believe she was saying it. Neither of them had ever thought of such a thing. She gripped his shoulders.

"What will you do?" Her former master's words fell from her lips. What would he do? Inwardly she pleaded. Take it. Take the offer. Take your life back from those who stripped it from you. Come with me. With me.

To become one of the impure undead. To turn his back on God. Or would he? To become a vampire would let him hunt down the real monsters. Not the ones like this beautiful police girl crying over him, begging him silently not to go. She could force him easily, but she wouldn't.

He wanted a chance. He wanted freedom. He wanted to live his own life.

And he wanted to see where these odd feelings for one Seras Victoria could take him.

Anderson smiled at her and tilted his head back, exposing his throat in a gesture of absolute trust. And thought that if he made it through this he'd do his level best to not claim he'd 'never' do something again.

Seras couldn't believe it when she saw the acceptance, saw him bare his throat. She lifted his body effortlessly into her lap and arms, ignoring the blood and gore all around. She took a deep breath and plunged her fangs into his flesh.

Anderson stiffened against her, first in pain, then in surprise as she drank from him. He hadn't expected it to feel quite so - good. Seras, meanwhile, was in a heaven of warm human blood and the smell of his skin so close to her. He turned his head a little more so she could get a better grip, groaning softly and not entirely in pain. Something was happening to him. He could feel it. The wound in his chest was beginning to close up rapidly, even faster than his normal regeneration abilities. Strength was flowing back into him, when the opposite should have been true as his life blood was leaving him.

Seras, hazy from the new experience of drinking from a living being could feel his hands tightening on her arms as strength returned to him. At the same time his heartbeat was slowing. She knew what was going to happen next, and was determined it would not be as frightening for him as it had been for her. Reluctantly letting go of his throat, she pressed her lips tightly against his in a powerful kiss. He was shocked still for a moment, and then with a soft sound in his throat began to reciprocate.

She flipped them around so that she was lying atop him, never breaking the kiss. She could feel his body responding delightfully to the attention, and ran her long tongue over his teeth and gums, teasing, nipping, and tickling. She could feel his canines beginning to elongate. Clearly he could too, because he started to freeze up. She would have none of it, wiggling more firmly against him and letting her tongue be cut on his sharpening teeth. The taste of her blood in his mouth spurred him back into motion. He kissed back again, demandingly, and she freely opened her mouth to allow his tongue entrance. For a novice, he was a damn good French-kisser. She could feel it when his fangs had finished developing, and his tongue had lengthened to match her own.

On top of that she was beginning to catch fragments of thoughts as the bond between them began to form.

_Beautiful..._

_Funny, I was going to say the same thing, _she thought at him teasingly, relishing his startlement. They broke off for a moment, and she stared into his eyes – which were rapidly going from green to deep, deep red. Darker than hers, more like wine than blood.

"I –" he began. She licked a drop of blood off his neck and he gasped. "If ye don't stop that...police girl...I'm not gonna be able t'stop myself."

Seras smiled a little bit, almost shyly, and then tugged gently, determinedly, at the top of his pants.

"Who said I wanted you to stop?"

* * *

Alucard wasn't certain what to expect as he finally made it to the mansion. There had been one desperate call from Seras, and then silence. Yet he could still feel her. She had not died. He was puzzled and a little irritated – and flat out angry that the paladin had somehow managed to infiltrate the mansion. He was pondering various unpleasantries to visit on the body of the new regenerator when he opened to door to Seras's room.

Red eyes widened to their full limit for one split second.

The room was a shambles. Every piece of furniture except the coffin had been completely wrecked. There was blood and even some brains splattered all across the floor and walls. In the center of the mess was a bundle of clothing that had been practically torn apart. Clothing very recognizable.

He walked quietly into the room, bloodying his boots as he approached the open coffin. Inside, curled together and smelling strongly of both sex and blood was his childe and the judas priest. There was no clothing on either of them, and a sheet barely preserved their modesty.

But what really stunned him was the almost healed bite mark on Anderson's neck, and the fangs displayed in his open mouth.

"Police girl?" he murmured questioningly. Her eyes snapped open and for an instant flashed furiously.

_MINE!_ Her mind snapped at him. He stepped back as the ex-paladin opened wine-red eyes in confusion. He had the slightly dazed look of the newly created.

"I thought you'd sleep with him," Alucard said, his amusement overpowering his surprise. "I did not think you'd turn him."

"His choice," Seras replied, her initial protective flash calming as she recognized that her Sire was not going to harm her fledgling/lover.

"Think Hellsing's got room fer one moore bloodsucker?" asked Anderson almost-but-not-quite-sheepishly. His natural fire was fighting with the vampiric nature that recognized Alucard as his blood-line.

Alucard's laughter accompanied him all the way up the out of the room and up to the study to inform his Master of this entertaining turn of events. Who could have guessed that turning the little police girl in Cheddar would lead to such convoluted amusement?

A/N: The epilogue will be up sometime soon. Anyone know if there's fanart anywhere of Anderson as a vampire?


	8. Epilogue

A/N: A big thank you to all who have reviewed this story with your encouragements and comments. Also a big shout out to Dotchan, who did some fanart for this story! Find it at http: dotchan. com /myart/ 2004/ family. jpg (remove the spaces)

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Coming to Terms: Epilogue

Enrico Maxwell knuckled his forehead in something akin to despair. Section XIII was in dire straits. The facilities for creating the regenerators had been destroyed in a simultaneous inferno that could not have been accidental. A virus had destroyed all computer files relating to the process as well. Since the men who'd created it all were dead and had been for several years or even decades, this meant they had to start over. From scratch. It would be years before they could produce another regenerator. Without the serum they'd been addicted to, Michaelous and the other paladin, Maxwell could never remember his name, would shortly be dead.

Somehow, somehow, Hellsing had to be behind this! He swore silently that the English bitch would pay, and pay dearly.

At least Anderson was dead. From the garbled reports from Michaelous, he'd turned traitor there at the end. The effects of the control serum wearing off perhaps? He'd never know.

A sound stirred on the edge of the man's awareness. He blinked and looked up. Did the shadows by the door seem – darker? Before his shocked eyes, a lanky form materialized out of the darkness. It was a very familiar form.

"Anderson?" he blurted, shocked. "But you're dead!" His hand was meanwhile reaching for the gun in his desk drawer.

There was a low chuckle from the other man as he strode forward into the light. Maxwell's eyes narrowed. Something was off. His eyes fell on the man's chest. The large silver crucifix was absent. There was a smaller one around his neck, apparently gold. He lifted his gaze to Anderson's face – and could not control his gasp at the sight of the fanged smile and the wine-red eyes.

"My God..." he whispered. His arm whipped up and he emptied the clip of blessed silver bullets into the former paladin. Or at least that was the intention. Anderson – moved – and the bullets never found their mark. Next thing he knew, Maxwell was being held against the wall by his throat, feet dangling. The cool, rational gaze Anderson had on him terrified him more than the berserk rage he'd seen the regenerator go into before.

"Ah'm fairly certain He would be most displeased wit' how ye've been treatin the faithful," commented Anderson. "Takin us an lyin t'us an controllin us like mad dogs fer yer purposes."

Oh shit. He'd read the file.

"You're a fine one to talk about the Lord," Maxwell managed to sneer. "I see you've turned your back on Him and joined the impure undead."

"Aye, Ah'm a monster," the ex-priest agreed quite calmly. "But soomehow, I think Ah'm less of one than I was when I was alive." He smiled broadly, displaying very sharp fangs. The leader of section XIII swallowed hard and felt his stomach falling towards his shoes.

"So now you'll kill me?" he forced himself to remain defiant. Unholy undead...how dared he?

"Actually I thought of somethin a bit moore fittin," Anderson replied. He held up his other hand and Maxwell stared blankly at the syringe full of pale golden liquid. It couldn't be....

"I took this wit' me when the labs blew," the vampire continued, confirming the man's worst fears. "It's the only bit o' that serum ye used on me left."

"No – Anderson, you were a man of God, don't – gyahhh!" Maxwell screamed as Anderson injected the addictive poison into his veins.

"Psychosis, weakness, then death," Anderson said quietly, and dropped the man onto the floor. "What ye had condemned me to. Maybe ye can recreate the serum in time t'keep ye alive, Maxwell. But ye'll be dependent on it even if ye do. Hope ye enjoy it."

Maxwell began to scream. Anderson turned his back and walked away.

* * *

Seras was relaxing in the jeep with her hat over her eyes when someone familiar lifted the hat and kissed her. 

"Done, Alex?" she smiled at her fledgling as he settled his long legs into the seat.

"Aye," he said with grim pleasure. "Serves th'bastard right." He fingered the golden crucifix around his neck. He still had his faith, despite all the obstacles and conflicts surrounding his new existence. Maybe that was why it was called faith...? Seras had given him the golden cross after his old silver one had scorched him.

She started the engine and grinned. Why she got to drive when he knew Rome better was something he still hadn't quite figured out.

"Good. I think we have a little free time before we have to start back for London."

"I wonder how we kin pass the time," he deadpanned. He felt her mental caress in response.

"Sir Integra's probably got a load of missions lined up for when we get back, so any free time we've got..." Anderson recalled his meeting with the head of Hellsing after his transformation. He'd stood there rather sheepishly behind his diminutive Master while she defended him and her choice. Alucard, the bastard, had just stood there smirking.

_"If you wanted a pet, a cat or dog might have been acceptable! Why did you have to bring home a psychotic Scottish catholic priest?"_

_"Actually it turns out I never was –" he'd tried to comment._

_"Shut up!"_

It had all worked out though. He still wasn't sure how, but it was all working out. He was now an official operative of the Hellsing agency. Seras had willingly bound herself to Integra's service, and that put him in the position she'd once been in, where Integra was Master of his Master. He shared a coffin with Seras, had decent conversations with Walter, and got to shoot up/slice up Alucard in the name of training. The fact that the annoying elder vampire always got back up at the end of it was a mere technicality.

He stretched one long arm over the back of the seat, curling possessively around Seras's shoulders. The look she shot him made him think of several pleasant ways to spend the next few hours.

It was strange. Somehow, despite becoming that which he'd hunted and hated so long, he was happy – happier than he could ever remember being. He was a vampire. He was a man of God. He was a contradiction in terms and yet he found he could balance anyway, with the help of the strawberry-blonde vampiress sitting beside him.

It was a lot to deal with, but he was coming to terms with it. Lord help him, but he could come to terms.

Finis

A/N: There it is, finally done. I have too many other projects to focus as much attention on this as I'd have liked, but that's life. Sorry if you were anticipation lemon, I can't write those well at all. Use your imaginations. Ja, ne!


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